"Brandy Blue." I made a sound of disgust. "Well, that's the name she goes by now anyway. You know, I hate that name. Sounds like a damn porn star. But I guess that's what she is, huh?" I glanced away. "And me too. Thanks to her."
Chloe paused. "What do you mean?"
"Anyway, she was this cocktail waitress, and –"
"There's nothing wrong with being a waitress," she said.
"Yeah, I know, honest." And I meant it. Desperately, I tried again. "But Brandy, you know, she had her sights set on something else. Wanted to be a star. Not that I knew that when I hooked up with her." I shook my head. "Best fucking actress I ever met."
Chloe stared at me. "What are you talking about?"
"The world I travel in, well, it's not exactly filled with the nicest people."
"So what?" she said. "You're not nice. What do you care?"
It was true. "You're right," I said. "I'm not nice."
She glanced toward the chair she'd been sitting in. "Obviously."
"But I guess if I'm being honest," I continued, "the thing with Brandy, I took it out on you." I looked into Chloe's eyes, trying like hell to make her understand. "I am so fucking sorry. I should've known better."
"Yeah," she said. "You should've."
At least she was talking. It was a good sign, right? If she wanted to hit me, yell at me, whatever, I'd take it and just be happy she wasn't walking out the door.
As long as she was here, I stood a chance, right? At the thought, I felt a spark of hope ignite in my chest. "You wanna hear the rest of it?" I said. "Let's go upstairs." My voice was raw and desperate. "I'll make it up to you. I promise."
Wordlessly, she stared over at me. Waiting, I searched her face for clues, a hint of hope, anything.
Say yes.
Finally, she said, "You can't make it up to me. I don't even know you."
I shook my head. "That's not true."
She rubbed at her wrists and winced when her fingers grazed a raw spot. Watching, I could hardly speak.Ihad done that. Somehow, I'd make them better. I'd make all of this better.
"Chloe—
She dropped her hands. "Is Chucky still upstairs?"
At her sides, I could still see her wrists. They looked so raw. They had to hurt. Tomorrow, there'd be bruises. Because of me.
In front of me, Chloe made a sound of impatience. "Well?"
Was Chucky still upstairs? Somehow, I managed to nod.
"Good," she said. "Because we're leaving."
No.
I couldn't let her, not like this.
Desperately, I tried again. "You won't listen to the rest? C'mon, baby. Please."
"I'm not your baby," she snapped. "Not anymore."
She turned and began walking toward the stairway. I wanted to stop her, to pull her back into my arms and hold her close until she agreed to listen.